


Sir Stabby and Friends

by yodepalma



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Awkwardness, Clarus shows up for like two seconds, Everybody Loves Prompto, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Original Character Death(s), Robots, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodepalma/pseuds/yodepalma
Summary: Five times Prompto has to save his robots, and one time his robot saves him.





	1. Sir Stabby (and friend)

**Author's Note:**

> i have no explanation for any of this and apologize for nothing 8D

“What the _hell_ is that?” Noctis asks, leaning against the wall to hold himself up as he rubs at his ankle. Prompto bends over and picks up the little round robot, smiling brightly.

“Oh, you’ve met Stabby!” Prompto says. “He’s a cleaning robot.”

“Why does he have a butter knife taped to the top?” Noctis growls. “He’s a _menace_.”

Prompto hugs the robot to his chest, pouting and staring at him with huge blue eyes, and Noctis’ anger starts to fade. It’s impossible to be mad at Prompto. It’s like kicking a puppy.

“He’s not a menace,” Prompto says. “He’s protecting his territory. Aren’t you, Stabby?”

Noctis stares as Prompto starts cooing over the little robot as if it’s sentient, and a smile crawls up on his face as Prompto tells it what a ‘good boy’ it is. This is ridiculous. _Prompto_ is ridiculous. Nobody should be this obnoxiously cute.

“…Hey,” Noctis says, and Prompto tears his attention away from Stabby to give Noctis a questioning look. “We should invite Gladio and Specs over. I’ll buy you lunch if you get it to stab both of them.”

Prompto’s smile lights up the room. “You better take me somewhere nice,” he says.

Noctis laughs and throws an arm over Prompto’s shoulder, giving Stabby’s knife a friendly flick. Then he pulls out his phone and sends off quick texts to Ignis and Gladio while Prompto starts telling him about some modifications he’s been making to one of those stupid little robot dogs.

The living room is strewn with all the weird things Prompto uses when he's messing around with robots: pieces of metal, wheels, stray wires, circuit boards or whatever they're calling them these days. Noctis wrinkles his nose at all of it and carefully toes the world's tiniest screwdriver out of his way so he can turn on the gaming console and relax with technology he understands. Prompto doesn't stop his monologue for a second, but he does pull his supplies closer to him before Noctis can manage to sit on something.

By the time Noctis’ phone vibrates to let him know Gladio is almost there, Prompto has finished upgrading his little dog. Noctis pauses his game so he can throw a ping pong ball back and forth with Prompto, the robot wobbling between them and yipping.

Gladio knocks before he opens the door, but instead of calling out a greeting all they hear is "What the _fuck_ —" Noctis and Prompto give each other a high five, and then Noctis tosses the ping pong ball towards the front hall. " _DAMMIT, PROMPTO_."

"That was Noct!" Prompto yelps, because he's a traitor. "Don't hurt him!"

"I almost stepped on it!" Gladio snarls, finally stomping into the room. He has the dog under one arm and Stabby under the other. "Why the fuck does this cleaning bot have a _knife_?"

"He's protecting me!" Prompto insists, scrambling to his feet and rushing over to yank Stabby away from Gladio. "K-9 isn't ready to do his job yet."

Gladio stares wordlessly at Prompto long enough that even Noctis starts to fidget. "You are not calling this dog K-9," he says in a flat voice.

"He's my dog," Prompto protests.

"K-9 is the worst name," Gladio says, way more invested in this than he needs to be. "At least call it, I don't know, Rex or Fenrir or something. Give the poor thing a real name."

"Rex?" Noctis says. "Seriously, Gladio?"

"You know what," Gladio grumbles. He stomps over to Noctis and sits down next to him, gently putting the dog on the floor before he reaches over and grabs the controller Noctis left lying on the ground. "Shut up."

Noctis snorts, and it's enough to make Gladio's eyebrow twitch so he doesn't say anything else. He fishes the second player controller out from under a pile of screws. When he moves back he leans against Gladio's arm. Gladio grunts, but doesn't move.

"Aw, I want a turn," Prompto says, sitting on Gladio's other side. He has the dog flopped across his lap like it's a real animal, and he pats Stabby as the cleaning bot scuttles off to do whatever killer cleaning bots do when they're not stabbing people.

"You don't get a turn," Gladio says. "Your robot tried to kill me."

"You're not even _bleeding_."

"Don't you have another robot to play with?" Noctis asks. Prompto shifts uncomfortably, messing with his bracelets, and Noctis turns his attention away from the game to narrow his eyes at him. "You didn't blow this one up too, did you?"

"What? No, I just—" Prompto sighs and flops dramatically against Gladio's other arm. "Ugh, never mind." He pulls another ping pong ball from somewhere and tosses it. The dog immediately gets up, falls off Prompto's lap, and chases after it. Noctis leans around Gladio to watch it, unable to fight off a grin as the dog 'picks up' the ball and carries it back to Prompto.

"If you're going to play the game, pay attention," Gladio growls, elbowing Noctis in the side. Noctis glares at him, but resettles himself as he hears battle music start up. He wishes this game would let him attack his teammates. Gladio deserves it.

It feels like _hours_ before Noctis' phone vibrates again, and he grins at the message. "Is Stabby in position, Prom?" he asks. "Iggy stopped for groceries and stuff."

Prompto groans and leans away from Gladio just far enough to see the door. "Stabby is prepared for, uh, stabbing."

"Fuckin' nerds," Gladio grumbles, pressing the buttons on his controller enthusiastically. "Noct, pay the fuck attention!"

Noctis sighs dramatically and hits the buttons on his own controller, pulling off a flawless combo without really looking at the screen. Gladio calms enough for Prompto to lean on him again, and they spend a comfortable few minutes with the game before they hear the sound of somebody struggling with the front door. Gladio pauses the game and Noctis strains his ears to listen for Stabby's victory.

"What the—" Ignis gasps. "NOCT!"

"How is it my fault?" Noctis calls, affronted. "It's Prompto's house."

"Yet you clearly know what I'm yelling your name for," Ignis grumbles, walking into the room with Stabby chasing dutifully after him. It catches Ignis in the back of an ankle and Ignis sighs. "Somebody get this thing off me."

"Got it!" Prompto says, delight in his voice as he bounces up from the floor. "You did such a good job, Stabby, such a good boy." The robot makes a little beeping noise like it's pleased by the praise.

"Hey, what do you think we should name the dog?" Gladio asks, giving Prompto's discarded ping pong ball a casual flick. Ignis steps over the dog as it runs in front of his feet, not even bothering to look down.

"Fred," Ignis says without hesitation. "Noctis, come help me prepare dinner."

Noctis makes a face at Gladio, who makes a face back but fails to be helpful, and only then does he get up to trail reluctantly after Ignis. Making dinner is boring. Once he's done dicing some mysterious ingredient up for Ignis, he picks up one of the discarded paper bags and starts cutting it up aimlessly. Stabby whirs around his feet, picking up dropped scraps, and Noctis grins at the idea it gives him.

"All hail King Stabby!" he announces dramatically, dropping the flimsy paper crown on top of the robot. Stabby beeps encouragingly. "Ruiner of ankles, warrior of Prompto's house—"

"Noct, you can't just _make_ someone a king," Ignis says curtly. Noctis is probably imagining that the beep Stabby gives sounds sad.

"Well, can I make someone a knight?" Noctis asks.

There's a very, very long pause.

"Technically, yes, but—"

Noctis takes up his discarded knife and clears his throat importantly. "I dub thee _Sir_ Stabby," he announces loudly, tapping the knife on either side of Stabby's butter knife. "I task thee with the protection of Prompto Argentum, guardian of this land and all who would enter it."

"Sometimes I can't believe you're royalty," Gladio grumbles, but he's not mad. He ruffles Noctis’ hair as he steps by to lean over Ignis' shoulder. "Need any help, Iggy? A taste test, maybe?"

"It's nearly done," Ignis says, bumping Gladio's shoulder with his own to make Gladio back off. "Prompto, would you mind getting the plates? And Gladio, take that knife from Noct."

"Wait, but I have to knight the dog!" Noctis protests. He points the knife at Gladio like it's a real weapon.

"You can't knight him until we've named him," Gladio says.

"His name is Fred and he's not getting knighted," Ignis says. There's a note of finality in his voice that makes Noctis lower his knife to the table _very slowly_. Gladio picks it up and moves it to the sink. "Thank you."

"Dinner smells great!" Prompto announces brightly into the slightly nervous silence. He sidles slowly around Ignis with four plates clutched in his hands. They almost fall to the floor when he stops abruptly, a strangled noise escaping from behind his closed lips. "Aw, Sir Stabby, no!"

"I tried to tell you not to knight it," Ignis says mildly. "See how quickly it turns on the Crown?"

"Does it count as a betrayal if it's only stabbing Prompto, though?" Gladio asks. He reaches over and gently takes the dishes from Prompto's hands.

"I told it to protect Prompto, so yes," Noctis says, pushing himself to his feet. "Give me back that knife. I need to strip this robot of his knighthood."

"You are not stabbing Stabby!" Prompto protests, pouting as he kneels down to scoop up the robot. "He's just overexcited. I'll put him away for the night."  
  
"And he was starting to grow on me too," Ignis says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Stabby is, as a matter of course, based on the [space roomba](http://seananmcguire.tumblr.com/post/153701578885/somethingninga-aethersea-sepulchritude-on)
> 
> K-9/Fred is...vaguely-not-really based on [this goofy looking thing](http://www.toyrobotsreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/robot-dog-toy.jpg), but it's probably more like [CHiP](http://wowwee.com/chip)


	2. Little Stabby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE GEN, BOYS (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
> Just casually (mis)quoting [Robin Hood: Men In Tights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oocNCj1vjE) in this one, don't mind me. (Relevant quote with context starts ~ 0:42 at Robin's "And whom might you be?")

Noctis pokes at Little Stabby hopefully, and frowns when the stupid thing doesn't even boop in annoyance. There's no lights on, though he vaguely recalls her being lit up red when he was stumbling into bed the night before. Red is…probably bad, right? And no lights is _worse_.

Oh man, he's broken his cleaning robot. Prompto's going to be so _upset_ when Noctis tells him. And he can't avoid mentioning it because Prompto gave her to him so there's no way for him to just _buy another one_.

He groans to himself and shuffles back to his bedroom to get his phone. He sits on his bed and stares at it for a long minute, wondering if he can find some other way to fix Little Stabby, but finally gives in and calls Prompto.

It's the weekend. Prompto answers his phone with, "Bluh?"

"Little Stabby is dead," Noctis says.

There's a long silence, broken only by the rustling of sheets as Prompto rolls over in bed.

"Little Stabby?" Prompto finally asks. He doesn't sound like he's really awake.

"Yeah, the bot you gave me." Noctis grins. "But don't be fooled. In real life, she's verrry big."

Prompto chuckles, but cuts himself off in the middle of it to yawn. Loudly. And then make some unintelligible little grumbling noises. It all ends in a loud groan and a louder thunk.

"I'm fine," Prompto yelps. There's a softer thunk. "Damnit, who put that nightstand there?"  
  
Noctis snickers.

"Shut up," Prompto mutters. "And tell me what you did to Little Stabby."

"I didn't do _anything_ ," Noctis insists. "I came home last night and she was all red and buzzy and this morning she wouldn't turn on. I didn't make her clean up any food or water, you _told_ me not to."

"Okay," Prompto says slowly. "When's the last time you cleaned her out?"

"Uhhh." He doesn't remember Prompto telling him he had to _clean it_. He thought the whole point of the robot was that he couldn't keep anything clean. Seemed kind of pointless to give him something else that would get dirty.

"I'll be right there, Noct." Prompto sighs. "Just...don't touch Stabby, okay?"

The phone falls silent. Noctis pulls it away from his ear to look at the blinking 'call ended' notification. Prompto hung up on him. _Rude_.  
  
He takes his phone with him as he leaves his room again, giving Little Stabby a rebellious pat on his way to the kitchen. Really, it's not like he's going to break her _more_.

It’s probably a good idea to eat something before Prompto shows up. He pokes listlessly through his cabinets and comes out with some bread and a bag of chips. Toast the bread, put a slice of cheese on each piece, slap the bread together, and ta-da! The sad person’s grilled cheese, his favorite meal.

He really wishes Ignis was around on weekends. Making his own food _sucks_.

At least Prompto doesn't take too long to get there. Noctis has barely managed to finish half a dungeon of _Oracle Quest_ before his door opens. Prompto wanders over and flops onto the couch next to him, putting a couple to-go coffee cups on the low table in front of them. Noctis barely looks at them as he fights his way through the rest of the dungeon.

"Got you hot chocolate," Prompto says through a yawn.

Noctis grunts an acknowledgement and Prompto doesn't say anything else. It takes a few minutes for the silence to process, but once it does Noctis pauses his game to look over at Prompto. Who's leaning on the arm of the couch, barely looking alive. He doesn't even have his _hair done_.

"Hey, let me see your glasses," Noctis says, dropping the controller so he can reach over.

"What?" Prompto shakes himself awake and leans away from Noctis' hands. "Noct, no! I need them to _see_."

"I want to know how blind you are," Noctis insists. "Come on. Just for a second?"

Prompto makes a little whining noise as Noctis practically climbs into lap. "Don't!" he snaps as Noctis snatches for his glasses. And then he puts both hands on Noctis' chest and shoves him onto the floor. Noctis _barely_ misses hitting his head on the table. Prompto scowls down at him.

"Iggy never tries to kill me when I grab _his_ glasses." Noctis pouts.

"He likes you more than I do," Prompto mutters, adjusting his glasses with one finger on the nosepiece. "Are you going to show me Little Stabby now?"

"Uuuugh." Noctis tries to dramatically lean against the coffee table, but his back twinges to let him know it's a terrible idea. "I _guess_."

Noctis waves his hand vaguely to indicate that he wants Prompto to help him up. Prompto sighs but grabs the hand as he stands, tugs gently so the stretching doesn't hurt Noctis' back. Noctis still grimaces as his knee catches, but he ignores the pain along with Prompto's worried frown.

Little Stabby hasn't moved from the hallway Noctis left her in. Not that Noctis was worried that she was going to come back to life and try to kill him or anything. Prompto puts a hand on his hip, cocking his head to the side and scowling at the robot.

"You really never cleaned her out?" Prompto asks. "Even though I told you to do it at least once a week like _three times_?"

"You never said that," Noctis protests. Prompto glares at him. "I would've remembered."

"Uh huh," Prompto says, clearly not believing him. He squats down and reaches around the back of Little Stabby to depress the power button, then grabs a little handhold on the side and yanks. It doesn't budge. Prompto narrows his eyes at it, jiggles it around a little, and then pulls harder. The entire side comes off, revealing a container that's overflowing with dark gray dust. Prompto looks into Little Stabby's empty insides and groans. " _Noct_."

"I didn't do anything."

"That's the problem." Prompto rubs at his eyes. "Tell me you know where the bags for the kitchen trash can are."

Noctis thinks about it for a long minute. "Under the sink?" He hasn't changed the trash in a while; usually Ignis does it for him. "I'll just...go get you one."

"And dump the dirt into it when you get back," Prompto fishes some sort of tool out of one of the side pockets of his cargo pants. "Didn't even get to finish my coffee," he grumbles to himself.

Noctis wanders back to the kitchen, opening the cabinet under the sink and frowning at all the bottles and boxes in there. He has multiple types of trash bags, apparently. Little tiny ones that Noctis thinks might be what Ignis uses for the bathroom trash can, _huge_ ones that Noctis doesn't want to know the use of, and a half-empty box that says 'kitchen trash bags' on it. He pulls one bag out and grimaces at the fake lemon smell, but at least he knows he picked the right one.

On the way back to Prompto he grabs the coffee cups. His hot chocolate has cinnamon on top. Prompto is the best.

"Got your coffee," Noctis says, hovering in Prompto's peripheral vision until he looks up. Little Stabby's insides are all over the hallway floor, covered in _ick_ and spreading dust. The end of one piece looks half-melted. Noctis definitely doesn't feel guilty _at all_.

"Thanks," Prompto says, taking the coffee from Noctis' hand and drinking it. All of it. He doesn't even stop to breathe.

"I don't know how you and Specs drink that stuff," Noctis mutters as Prompto puts his empty cup on the floor.

"Lots of sugar," Prompto says. "And cream. Sometimes chocolate. Now let me _focus_."

Noctis snorts and grabs the gross container that came out of his bot, pulling it closer so he can put the trash bag over top of it. He almost tips himself over pouring the dirt into the bag—it's a lot lighter than he expected—but he manages to get it done without spilling dust all over himself. He grabs Prompto's cup and adds it to the mess, then starts picking up the bigger dust bunnies and shoving them in too.

"This is so gross," he says.

"Now you know how Stabby feels," Prompto says.  
  
Noctis makes a face and fidgets in the silence. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Prompto pulls away from Little Stabby's insides, chewing on his bottom lip. His ungelled bangs are in his face. He tries to push them away with his arm, but the hair sticks to his sweaty cheeks and gets tangled on his glasses. He makes a little whining noise in the back of his throat, and Noctis grins and pushes the hair back with his clean hand. Prompto's eyes widen behind his glasses.

"Th-thanks," Prompto mumbles, blushing. Noctis jerks his hand back as he feels his own cheeks heat up.

"Sure," Noctis says, shoving his hand in his pocket. He pulls it back out almost immediately to catch the bag of dirt before it tips over. He leans it carefully against the wall, holding a hand out until he's sure it won't fall. He doesn't glance at Prompto while he's doing this. "If you don't need me I'll just go back to my game."

"Yeah, I'll yell if I need anything," Prompto says, voice muffled.

Noctis looks up to see Prompto already digging around Little Stabby's insides again. He ignores the faint feeling of disappointment as he trudges back to the couch and unpauses his game. The Oracle's sprite gives him an impatient look like she's _judging_ him.

"Shut up, Stella," Noctis grumbles to her under his breath.

It's easy to lose himself to the game, and he's glad the constant battles keep him from thinking too hard about whatever (didn't) happen in the hallway.

It takes another dungeon and a half for Prompto to finish fixing Little Stabby. Noctis isn't even aware Prompto is done until the robot comes zooming up to him, whirring reproachfully as she picks up invisible crumbs from the chips Noctis had eaten earlier. Prompto follows her a minute later, cleaning his glasses on the bottom of his shirt.

"Good as new!" Prompto says. He doesn't sit down, so Noctis pauses his game again and shoves his hands in his pockets as he stands.

"Cool," Noctis says, trying not to fidget in the weird awkward silence. "Um. Staying for lunch? We haven't tortured the Crownsguard with a pizza delivery in a while."

"I can't." Prompto rubs the back of his head. "My parents said they might stop home for a little bit tonight, so…"

"Oh." Noctis can't stop himself from frowning. He doubts Prompto's parents will actually show up, and even if they do they never stay for long. "Don't want to miss them."  
  
"Yeah, so I'll just…" Prompto gestures vaguely toward the front door, but he doesn't walk away. They stare at each other awkwardly. This is _ridiculous_.

Noctis clears his throat and claps a hand to Prompto's shoulder. Takes one step forward and leans in to press a kiss to Prompto's cheek. "Thanks for fixing Little Stabby," he says to Prompto's nose.

"Y-you're welcome," Prompto says, his face turning red as a smile curls up his lips. "Um. I'll see you on Monday?"

"Don't have a choice, do we?" Noctis grins.

Prompto snickers and starts walking toward the door. Noctis follows, hovering uncertainly. He holds the door open, but Prompto barely makes it over the threshold before he spins around and grabs the front of Noctis' shirt. Their noses bump together, and then Prompto's chapped lips press against his for half a second.  
  
"Bye!" Prompto squeaks, and he runs off down the hallway before Noctis can process what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is me in the morning. & I'm not knocking the sad person's grilled cheese. That's my 4am insomnia meal.
> 
> I have no actual reference for Little Stabby, but I like to imagine she looks like this [room service bot](https://yodepalma.tumblr.com/post/160398267956/seigiva-artisticpages-breaktotheotherside). But a little...bulkier? idk


	3. Mr. Fluffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last one to go up before the +1 but I, uh, suddenly have to move in less than a week and don't know when I'll get a chance to write the other parts. So. Here's what I have? :D

"It's _pink_ ," Gladio grumbles, poking the robot with a toe. He doesn't look very impressed when it responds by turning its head and biting down on him, especially when he tries to shake it off and it doesn't let go. "Aaaand it's biting me. This is a new low."

"Aw, don't be mean to Mr. Fluffy!" Iris says, scooping down and saving her brother from the cat robot. Mr. Fluffy makes a noise that she assumes is supposed to be a purr. "He wouldn't bite you if you didn't _antagonize_ him!"

"She's right," Prompto says. "I programmed it to protect her too! That was just a warning bite."

"What's it do, breathe fire? It's a little kitten."

Iris hides a giggle behind her hand, not that anyone would have heard it above Prompto's outright laughter. "You'll see," Prompto says, and his grin would be worrying if he didn't wink at Iris too.

"If this stupid thing hurts her, you'll regret making it."

Prompto looks offended, but at least he doesn't seem scared of Gladio like most people are. Iris figures it's time to step in anyway. Gladio won't threaten _her_. Well. He won't look like he means it when he does.

"I trust Prompto," Iris says, putting a hand on Gladio's arm to calm him down. Mr. Fluffy puts a paw on his arm too. "He'd never make anything that would hurt me."

"Not on purpose," Gladio mutters, but at least he stops glaring at Prompto.

"It's mostly just going to give her reminders and stuff anyway," Prompto says. He lifts the cat's tail to reveal a port in the butt. Iris slaps her hand over her mouth but doesn't quite hold back a squeak. "See, you can sync it up to the calendar on your phone and—"

"Yeah, sounds great," Gladio interrupts. Prompto rolls his eyes and pouts. "You two go nerd out or whatever. I'm just gonna go do...something."

"Have fun with your romance novels!" Iris chirps, grinning brightly at Gladio's glare. "Let me know how Sir Reginald is doing."

"Why do you even know his _name_?" Gladio grumbles, but doesn't wait for an answer before he disappears down the hallway to his room.

"Does he really read romance novels?" Prompto asks quietly once Gladio's door closes.

Iris shouldn't tell him about the stash of books Gladio hides under his bed. He's really self-conscious about them, especially since Iris thinks they're all ridiculous. But Prompto doesn't seem like the type of person who'd tease maliciously. He makes _robots_. He probably knows all about being bullied for something he loves. So she hooks her hand in Prompto's elbow to tell him all about how badly Sir Reginald is handling his love triangle. Prompto's grin only gets bigger as Iris describes the entire series, and Iris suspects that he'll be bringing it up to Gladio at the worst possible moment later. Good. Gladio deserves it.

Iris drags him to her bedroom so she can get her phone cord. It's the first time she's let a boy in there, but she's not sure Prompto counts as a _boy_. It'd be like thinking of Gladio as one, which he clearly isn't. He's a brother. They're hardly even real people. And since Prompto is _kind of_ like Gladio, that means he's a brother too. So Prompto's allowed in her room. And he can sit on the foot of her bed with all the stuffed animals. He's even cute and fluffy like them!

Iris can't stop giggling as she plugs her phone into the cat's butt. A little notification pops up on her screen asking for permission to sync her calendar and she taps 'yes' without bothering to look at the options for _what_ it'll sync. It's not like Prompto would give her a virus or something. The cat's eyes light up red and it meows.

"This is the cutest thing ever," Iris gushes, petting the robot's striped ears. "Thank you for making it fluffy for me. Gladio thinks he's ugly though."

"Gladio has no taste," Prompto says. "Mr. Fluffy is perfect just the way he is. And he matches your room." He gestures down at her pink and white-striped bedspread.

"He _is_ perfect," Iris agrees. Mr. Fluffy meows again, and Iris looks down at her phone to see that the sync has finished. She takes the plug out of the cat's butt, _still_ unable to stop giggling about it.

"Okay, so, he'll automatically tell you about appointments or whatever you have in your calendar," Prompto says, rolling Mr. Fluffy over onto his back. He points at a tiny section on its belly that doesn't have any fake fur on it and peels it back. There's a _tiny_ keyboard in its belly, and he pulls out an equally tiny screen. "But if you need to add something and you don't feel like getting your phone you _can_ type it into there. It'll be easier if you talk to him though."

"Talk to him?" Iris repeats.

"Sure, like, uh. Just tell him to remind you to do something and he'll store it."

"Like, Mr. Fluffy, please remind me to hug Prompto at—" Iris checks the time on her phone "—3:07pm?"

Prompto blushes as Mr. Fluffy meows, which must be the noise it makes to acknowledge things. The two of them sit in silence for a minute.

"Ms. Iris, it is time for you to hug Prompto," Mr. Fluffy says in a chirpy robot voice. Iris squeals with excitement and throws her arms around Prompto's chest.

"I love him!" she says. Prompto laughs and hugs her back.

\---

Over the next few weeks, Mr. Fluffy reminds Iris of _everything_ she needs to do. She has to call Prompto to ask him how to turn off specific notifications after it announces _during class_ that she has a club meeting that afternoon. Prompto has to come over and reprogram it entirely.

("Nerds," Gladio says when he sees them fiddling with Mr. Fluffy on the living room floor. Iris pouts, but Prompto is unfazed.

"Sir Reginald should dump Kathryn," he says, not looking up from...whatever he's doing with his portable keyboard. "She's a terrible person."

Gladio slinks off without another word, and Prompto stops typing long enough to give Iris a high five.)

Iris doesn't realize what else Prompto has done to Mr. Fluffy until she _insists_ on making Prompto a dinner to take home with him that night. She likes to sing while she's cooking because she finds it relaxing, and she doesn't mind if she has an audience. Her voice isn't _that_ bad.

She almost drops a knife when she starts singing and Mr. Fluffy starts meowing along with her. She spins around to stare at him, confused by the green lights in his eyes, and then looks up at Prompto. Who's grinning like he just won something.

"He _sings_?" Iris asks.

"Gladio said you like to sing." Prompto shrugs. "I thought you'd like some accompaniment."

Iris laughs and turns back to the counter, singing again as she goes back to chopping. Mr. Fluffy keeps perfect rhythm with her, yowling along and sounding _worse_ than an actual cat in heat. It probably makes Iris' voice sound amazing.

"What the fuck is that noise?" Gladio stomps into the room and scowls at both of them. "I'm going to take this damn robot apart."

He picks up Mr. Fluffy before Iris can so much as protest, turning it over in his hands. He pulls up the fur on its stomach and snorts.

"Don't you _dare_ ," Prompto snaps, getting out of his seat and snatching Mr. Fluffy from Gladio's hands. "I can't believe you'd do that to _Iris_."

"Oh, come on," Gladio growls. Prompto backs away from him, holding Mr. Fluffy to his chest. "That's the most obnoxious sound I've ever heard in my entire life. And I've listened to Iris try to _rap_."

"Yeah, but Iris is having fun with him. Aren't you?"

"I like singing with Mr. Fluffy!" Iris insists, wiping off her hands and bouncing over to Gladio. She grabs his arm and puts on her best puppy eyes. Gladio scowls down at her, but _then_ he looks at Prompto and hesitates. Iris knew she could count on Prompto. "Please don't hurt him, Gladio."

"Pleeease," Prompto echoes. Mr. Fluffy meows, and Gladio's resolve crumbles visibly.

" _Fine_ ," he snaps, shaking his arm free of Iris' grip so he can point a finger at her. "But don't even _think_ about starting up this shit before breakfast."

Iris gives him the fakest sincere look she has in her arsenal. "I won't," she promises.  
  
Gladio rolls his eyes and storms out of the kitchen. Iris and Prompto don't bother to wait for him to get out of earshot before they high five. Whatever Gladio growls back at them is drowned out by the sound of Mr. Fluffy's singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a reference for Mr. Fluffy, but I _do_ have four cats. That's basically the same thing, right?


	4. Fred and the Freds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of appalled by how long this took me to write. Also notably I managed to finish it after deciding this is another story where literally everyone has a crush on Prompto. I'm not even sorry.

Ignis waits patiently for the sound of Prompto dropping his phone to fade away, thinking vaguely that he shouldn’t have called him so early in the morning. He knows that Prompto, like Noct, isn’t exactly a morning person, but he’d only just noticed the issue this morning and he doesn’t want to risk it getting worse.

“Iggy?” Prompto finally says, sounding out of breath. He probably dropped the phone behind his dresser or something and refused to get out of his bed to get it. “Is everything okay? Noct’s not hurt or anything, right?”

“Noct’s fine,” Ignis says. “I’m sure he hasn’t even woken up yet.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty early.” Prompto yawns. “’S why I was worried. What’s up?”

"The robot you gave me appears to be...blooming." Ignis flicks at the offending stem, frowning. "I would have waited to call you, but I'm afraid I won't have time later in the day."

“No, that’s fi—wait, did you say he’s _blooming_?” Ignis can hear Prompto scrambling around his room, and winces in sympathy when he hits something with a resounding thunk.

“Are you alright?” Ignis asks, though he isn’t terribly concerned. Prompto’s extremely clumsy, but he hasn’t managed to kill himself yet.

“Great,” Prompto says in a tight voice. “I just keep hitting this stupid nightstand when I get out of bed.”

Ignis taps his fingers on the counter. “…Hasn’t it always been there?”

“Shut up,” Prompto mutters without heat. “How long will you be home? Do you want me to come over now?”

“I have to leave in a half hour.” Ignis adjusts his glasses, staring vaguely at the plants on his counter. “If you can’t make it, I can text you the keycode for my apartment and you can come over whenever you want. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t wander around, though.”

“No problem! You keep it in the kitchen, right?”

“Yes, all of my plants are there.” There’s a short silence that means Prompto is probably nodding his understanding. He always somehow forgets that people can’t see him over the phone. “Do you need anything else?”

“Uhhh, I’ll text you if anything comes to me,” Prompto mutters, clearly thinking hard. “Have a good day at work!”

“Thank you,” Ignis says and hangs up. He stares at the little flower bud for another second, then shakes his head and goes back to getting ready.

 

It’s a _very_ long day. As much as Ignis likes looking after Noctis (well, for the most part), he can’t bring himself to enjoy the meetings and politics that take up most of his time.

He’s looking forward to a quiet night with his plants, not sure if he can stomach any more human interaction for the day. So when he steps into his apartment to hear Prompto’s godsforsaken music blasting, he can’t help but sigh and rub the bridge of his nose.

He likes Prompto, he really does, but the kid can just be so _tiring_. He has too much energy and little sense of personal boundaries. And terrible taste in music.

Prompto is sitting at his kitchen table, apparently still working on Fred (the robot). Ignis doesn’t frown at him, but he _does_ frown at the new potted plant sitting in the middle of his counter.

“Prompto, why is there a cactuar on my counter?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over the music, and Prompto nearly jumps out of his seat. The piece he’d been carefully screwing back onto the robot swings around and hangs at an odd angle. It rather reminds Ignis of a bird with a broken wing.

“Do you _have_ to sneak up on me like that?” Prompto whines, a hand clutching his shirt just over his heart.

“Perhaps if you didn’t have your music up so loud you would have heard me coming.” Ignis puts his briefcase down next to one of the kitchen chairs and moves to shuffle his plants around. The cactuar pot is taller than the rest of them, so he shoves it in the middle between Fred (the cactus) and Fred (the aloe plant).

He briefly considers giving the cactuar a different name, but then he’d have to _remember_ it.

“Oh, that’s from Noct,” Prompto says. Ignis pauses his adjustments to turn and stare at him. “I don’t know, man, he said it reminded him of you.”

Ignis tries to think of something appropriate to say. “That was…kind of him. I suppose.”

Prompto snickers and turns his attention back to Fred (the robot), carefully rotating the fallen piece back into place and screwing it in. Ignis leans against the counter and watches him.

“I made some upgrades to him too,” Prompto says, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over his music.

“Would you like to stay for dinner since you’re still here?” Ignis asks. “You can tell me what you’ve done to Fred while I cook.”

Prompto looks up at him, surprised, but he never stops tightening the screw. “Oh! I’d love to, but you really don’t have to. I’m sure I can dig up something when I get home.”

Ignis spares him a smile before he starts gathering supplies for a quick stir-fry. “It’s no trouble at all. Consider it payment for fixing Fred for me.”

“You don’t have to pay me,” Prompto says. “I gave him to you, so it’s only fair that I fix him.”

Ignis waves off his protest. “I had to cook tonight anyway, so it’s really no trouble. Now, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing?”

Prompto sighs before he starts talking and Ignis lets his voice wash over him. The work Prompto does is _fascinating_ , even if Ignis only understands about a quarter of the technical terms he uses. It’s a nice change from the silence Ignis usually surrounds himself with at night, especially once Prompto turns off his music.

It doesn’t hurt that Prompto thoroughly enjoys anything Ignis makes. Ignis is pleased by the little delighted smile Prompto gives after his first bite. His focus is on Prompto rather than his own plate, and he’s surprised when he notices that he’s finished eating. He doesn’t even remember what it tasted like.

Ignis walks Prompto to his door once the meal’s over. He finds himself somewhat distracted by the way the dim indoor lighting creates creeping shadows in his wild hair and accentuates the broadness of his shoulders, and the realization that he likes Prompto rather more than platonically nearly makes him stop walking.

When in the world did _this_ happen? He’s not normally so oblivious about his own feelings.

“Um, thanks for dinner,” Prompto says, shifting nervously on his feet and pushing some wayward hair out of his face. “It was really good. But you made it, so of course it was, everything you make is good.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ignis says, and means it. He takes a step closer to Prompto and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you find yourself wanting company for dinner again, feel free to text me. It was a lovely night.”

“I-I’ll keep that in mind,” Prompto says, licking his lips. He’s not quite looking Ignis in the eye.

Ignis leans down toward him, smiling at the hitch in Prompto’s breathing as Ignis’ hand slides up his neck. Prompto tilts toward him, his eyes falling closed, but he still gasps in surprise when Ignis’ lips touch his. Ignis keeps the kiss gentle, not wanting to pressure him into anything he’s not ready for, and it ends far more quickly than Ignis would like.

Prompto licks his lips again when Ignis pulls away. “Oh,” he breathes, and doesn’t seem to know what else to say.

“Have a good night, Prompto,” Ignis murmurs.

“Y-you too.” Prompto bites his lip and backs into the door, blushing as he scrambles behind himself for the doorknob. Ignis is only a little disappointed when his hand falls away from Prompto’s skin. “I’ll, um, see you on Monday? To pick up Noct?”

“As always,” Ignis agrees. Prompto beams at him and stumbles over his own feet as he walks out without turning away from him. The door bangs gently behind him.

Ignis leans his forehead against it and sighs. This wasn’t on the list of things he’d expected to do tonight, but he doesn’t have any complaints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with thanks to rhymeswithpi, who informed me that Ignis names everything Fred so he doesn't have to remember individual names
> 
> Fred (the robot) is vaguely based on [this thing](http://www.intorobotics.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/005930ac4bc_opt.jpg) from MIT, because I thought it looked sort of like a swan. fite me (ง •̀_•́)ง


	5. Promptorex (and opponent)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I thought this story was going to be gen? lol that was cute
> 
> ...Also: don't ask about the wrapping paper.

The last thing Gladio expects right after lunch is for Jared to knock on his door and announce he has a visitor. Gladio looks up from his book with a frown, hoping it’s not anybody he has to get up for, but it fades when Jared steps aside and Prompto pokes his head into the room.

“Happy birthday!” Prompto says. He has a tote bag slung over his shoulder, and he gently puts it on Gladio’s bed before he sits down.

“Bit early for the party, aren’t you?” Gladio asks. He marks his page in the book and tosses it onto his nightstand, then leans his head on one hand and grins. “It’s probably too early to pre-game too.”

Prompto rolls his eyes and pulls a wrapped box out of his tote. The paper’s covered in pastel pink elephants. “I came to give you a present, jerk.”

“Why is it wrapped in baby shower paper?” Gladio asks, sitting up and taking it from him. It’s heavier than he expected, even with the size of the box, and he gives it a sharp shake.

“Don’t!” Prompto yelps, snatching it back out of Gladio’s hands. “Gees, _how_ old are you? Can’t you just open it like a normal person?”

“I wanted to guess what it was.” Gladio is not pouting because he’s _too old_ to do that, but Prompto’s expression softens. “Here, give it back. I promise I won’t shake it again.”

“You probably already _broke it_.” Prompto huffs, but he does hand the present over.

Gladio picks at the tape holding the paper closed, wanting to open it neatly to prove a point, but it sticks to the paper a little too well and he ends up tearing it off anyway. Whatever. Presents are _meant_ to be torn open, not to take ten minutes to unfold it like _some people_ do.

The paper reveals a white box, and opening that reveals pastel pink tissue paper that matches the elephants exactly. Cute.

“I think you overdid the theme here,” Gladio mutters, but he falls silent at the bright orange monstrosity nestled in the paper. It’s probably a robot, which isn’t exactly a surprise, but he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with a _dinosaur_. When he picks it up one of the obnoxiously green boxing gloves attached to its short forearms falls off.

“I _told_ you you broke it!” Prompto says. “Ugh, just give it to me. I’ll fix it.”

“Sorry,” Gladio mutters, picking the tiny glove up and putting it and the dinosaur on the bed in front of Prompto. _Very gently_. Prompto isn’t all that great at yelling at people, but that doesn’t mean Gladio enjoys it.

No, he takes that back. Prompto’s cute when he’s mad. Gladio just doesn’t like when Prompto is mad at _him_.

Prompto pulls a small toolkit out of the pocket of his cargo pants, hunching over his robot with a frown. Gladio should probably pick up his book again while he waits, but he _likes_ watching Prompto work. It’s the only time he ever sits still. And the intensity of his focus is so _distracting_.

Gladio sighs at his own thoughts. They’re not exactly new, but he really wishes he would just get the fuck over them. _Everyone_ knows Prompto’s had a crush on Noct since the dawn of time. Well, except maybe Noct.

“What’s this thing supposed to do anyway?” Gladio asks.

“Shhh, working,” Prompto mumbles. Gladio rolls his eyes.

It doesn’t take long for Prompto to fix the glove, and he puts the robot on the mattress and turns it on. It sways a bit unsteadily, then opens its mouth and roars unrealistically.

“ _Now_ will you tell me what it does?” Gladio asks.

Prompto huffs at him. “Push the green buttons on its back,” he says unhelpfully.

Gladio pushes both of them at the same time, and the robot’s arms extend and punch Prompto in the knee. Prompto grins and wriggles, reaching into his tote bag and pulling out another box. Inside it is another dinosaur, this one neon green with orange gloves.

“Tell me you built these to fight each other,” Gladio says.

Prompto grins at him. “I _absolutely_ built them to fight each other.”

 

The robots are amazing. _Prompto_ is amazing. This is the best damn birthday Gladio has ever had, even though he keeps fucking _losing_.

Gladio curses when his robot’s jaw drops open in defeat for the _third fucking time_ while Prompto cackles at him, but they both fall silent when the bedroom door bursts open.

“ _Why_ are you so loud, Gladdy?” Iris whines. “I’m trying to _study_ and you’re—oh, hi, Prompto!”

Prompto fiddles with his robot. “Hey, Iris,” he says. “Sorry about the noise. I had to bring Gladio’s present over early.”

“Can you keep it down, please?” Iris frowns, clearly not letting herself be distracted. Gladio doesn’t know how she does it.

“Sorry,” Prompto says again. Iris huffs and leaves, closing the door behind her with a loud thunk. “Um, I guess I should go and let you enjoy your birthday.”

“What, because we annoyed Iris?” Gladio scoffs. “You didn’t make me this robot so we could get one stupid hour of fun out of it. We’re having a damn tournament.”

Prompto still looks a bit uncertain, but he smirks back. “Do you like getting your ass kicked that much?”

“Hey, I’m getting the hang of it,” Gladio grumbles. “C’mon, let’s make a ring.”

Gladio empties out half of his sock drawer before he’s satisfied with the size of the ring. Prompto laughs at him but at least he’s relaxing.

“Wait, we need a scoreboard,” Prompto says seriously. “I want proof that I beat you.”

“Yeah, nobody’s going to believe you without it.” Gladio snorts but he digs out one of his old school notebooks from under his bed and tosses it next to the ring. Prompto snatches it and digs a pen out of _nowhere_. He has to scribble in the margins before it’ll write, but then he divides the page in half with an uneven line and writes their names in capital letters at the top. He draws a little victory emoji after his own name and dots the ‘i’ in Gladio’s with a star. Dork.

“All right, let’s get this started.” There’s a determined gleam in Prompto’s eyes, but Gladio ignores it. He won’t win if he lets himself get lost in his thoughts.

Of course, he loses anyway. Pretty spectacularly, in fact, but it’s hard to be mad when Prompto looks so damn pleased with himself.

A soft knock at the door makes both of them jump. Gladio’s dad pokes his head in the room and he nods a greeting to Prompto before he looks up at Gladio. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? The prince and Ignis are going to be here soon.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but he sighs as they hear Iris yelling something about her math homework.

Prompto looks at his phone once the door closes, and he makes a little dismayed noise. “Oh man, I can’t believe I lost track of time. I was going to go home and get changed.”

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing now?” Gladio asks.

Prompto starts building a tower out of Gladio’s socks. “I just—I wanted to dress nicer is all.”

Gladio frowns, confused. “What for? We’re not going anywhere nice.”

Prompto shrugs and mumbles something that Gladio doesn’t quite catch, but whatever it is makes his cheeks turn pink. He scrambles out of his chair without looking up. “I’ll let you get ready!”

Gladio gets up too so he can catch Prompto’s arm and pull him back. “Oh, come on, it can’t be that embarrassing. Whose eye are you trying to catch?”

Prompto blushes harder, turning toward Gladio but refusing to look him in the eye. “Nobody. Um.” He chews on his bottom lip. “You, um, liked your present, right?”

Gladio blinks down at him, wondering what the hell that has to do with anything. “Well, yeah. But what—”

“I had another present for you,” Prompto says in a rush, then he looks up at Gladio and huffs. “Though I don’t know if you deserve it after you broke the _first_ one.”

Gladio rubs at the back of his neck. “And…this other present involved you dressing nice?”

“No! Well, kind of. But it was more— _ugh_.” Prompto rubs his face and whines in the back of his throat. “Why is this so _hard_?”

“ _What’s_ hard?”

Prompto glares up at him like he can’t believe Gladio’s being so dense. He shuffles his feet and licks his lips, takes one step closer to Gladio. “ _This_.” He surges up on his tiptoes and yanks on Gladio’s shirt.

Prompto isn’t able to move Gladio with his own strength, but Gladio’s more than willing to move for him. He barely has a chance to be surprised that Prompto’s _kissing him_ before Prompto starts pulling away. He slides one arm around Prompto’s waist and cups a hand around Prompto’s jaw to pull him back in. Prompto gasps and Gladio isn’t above taking advantage of it to slide his tongue into his mouth.

He’s kind of surprised when he realizes that Prompto’s obviously kissed someone before. He might not be a great kisser, but he has _some_ idea of what he’s doing.

Gladio pulls away slowly. “Who the hell have you been kissing?” he asks.

“Um. Noct?” Prompto grins up at him nervously. “And Iggy once. Or twice.”

Gladio mulls over that for a second, not sure how he’s supposed to feel about it. Probably jealous. But it’s not like it’s really that much of a surprise. Anyway, at least it’s not anybody he’ll have to _threaten_.

“They know you’re kissing me?” Gladio asks, because even if he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone else.

“Um, yeah.” Prompto flushes bright red. “I kind of—asked Noct for help. And Iggy was there.”

“All right,” Gladio says. “I can work with this.”

He leans down to kiss Prompto again. It’s _his_ birthday, after all. Noct and Iggy can have Prompto another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a source for what the dinobots look like, because I keep imagining them to look like a plushie rhymeswithpi got me for...literally no reason at all. listen i have the best friends ok
> 
> Also I didn't find a place to mention the dinosaurs' names, but Gladio names his Promptorex (after my plushie FITE ME), and Prompto has named his Roarzilla.


	6. Rover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I _finally_ managed to finish the last chapter. I only meant to have this done a week ago. :|
> 
> It's not quite as shippy as I was planning on it being, but all in all I'm pretty satisfied. It's also not as cute as the rest of the chapters but ehhhh this was always meant to happen.

It's not the first time Prompto has been surrounded by MTs, but it's definitely the _worst_. They're closing in faster than he can shoot them, and the other three are too caught up in their own fights to rush over and save him. He still thinks he can get out of this, though. He's sure he can. He's been getting better, even _Gladio_ says so, and he's not going to let Noct down.

The confidence disappears when he pauses to pull his gravity well out of the Armiger and a chain wraps around his arm. An MT with an axe comes up on his other side, but it's not like he has anything to _block_ with. He raises his free arm anyway, turning his face away so he doesn't have to watch his own death coming for him.

An alarm goes off in his pocket, loud and _terrifying_. He'd turned most of them off when he'd left Insomnia, not wanting to know if something happened to his robots at home when he couldn't go back to fix them. But he'd brought one small robot with him because he couldn't bear to leave them _all_ , and if his alarm was going off then the _Regalia_ —

He looks up despite the MT, spinning out of the way and trying to get the car in view. He _barely_ dodges the axe. The other MT yanks on the chain. He grabs a gun with his free hand as he stumbles, and shoots the axeman before it can stand up straight again. It jerks with the force of the bullets, falling to the ground and not moving again.

But Prompto is out of bullets and there's a high-pitched drone in the air that he's never heard before. He looks up for the ship that dropped the MTs, expecting something new and more terrible than the armors, but it's nowhere to be seen. Instead he sees a bright red ball flying toward him, tiny wings outstretched in flight, and it appears to be _glowing_.

Prompto hears a little horrified noise come from the back of his throat. He can recognize any of his robots no matter _what_ they're doing, and this one is not meant to glow. Ever. Rover's not even meant to be outside of the car unless Prompto asks him to fetch something, and he's definitely absolutely _never_ supposed to be around while they're _fighting_. He wants to yell for Rover to stop, but his voice is trapped in his throat.

Rover flies right passed Prompto and extends his little pincer arm to latch onto the MT's head. One of the little plastic googly eyes glued to him falls off—Prompto doesn't want to think about how hot he must be if the glue is _melting_ —but he turns his two biggest googly-eyed cameras to Prompto. He beeps twice, but the voice Prompto programmed into him is unusually quiet when he says, "I got this."

Prompto doesn't have time to recover before Rover explodes. The chain falls off his arm as he's thrown away, and he lands on his back hard enough that all the breath is knocked out of him. He feels like he's been hit with one of Noct's fire spells, but he just wipes at his face as he struggles to his feet. He coughs so hard he almost falls over, and something warm trickles down the side of his jaw. His whole _head_ sounds like it's ringing, and he can't find his balance.

He ignores it all and stumbles into the smoke anyway. He doesn't have far to go before he trips over the MT's corpse, landing hard on his knees. He pats around the ground until he finds the MT's hand, jerking away when it burns his fingers. At least they're outside. The smoke is already clearing, unless Prompto's eyes are somehow adjusting to it, and he leans forward when the outline of the body appears.

It takes him a minute to realize that there's no _head_. And if that's been blasted apart, then Rover—

He feels _sick_. He hunches over and slaps his hands over his mouth, isn't surprised to realize that he's crying. Something in the back of his head is screaming at him to get up, that there's still more enemies and he's _vulnerable_ , that he's a liability in this state. But pieces of Rover are scattered all around him, and he can't even bring himself to reach out to touch the scorched metal.

Something looms at his back. He can't react. A flash of blue announces Noct as he warp-strikes the MT. It falls in one hit, and then Noct is on his knees in front of Prompto, grabbing Prompto's face with both hands. His eyes are wild with fear and his hair doesn't look much better, but his lips are moving. Prompto tries to listen, he _does_ , but his head is still ringing and he can't _focus_.

"I can't hear you," he says, feeling his voice shaking even if he can't hear it. Noct's eyes widen further and he leans around Prompto, probably yelling for help. When he turns his gaze back to Prompto he brushes Prompto's bangs away from his eyes and grimaces, talking again. He stops when he pulls his fingers away from Prompto's face and sees blood on the tips. Prompto shakes his head and regrets it as his vision swims. "Noct—Noct, Rover was—"

He stops when he feels someone else at his side, gentle fingers tilting Prompto's face so his bleeding ear is toward the sky. He doesn't have to look to know it's Ignis, because Noct is already relaxing. And he thinks he can _feel_ Gladio stomping toward them.

Ignis breaks a hi-potion right over Prompto's injured ear and a second later he hears Gladio's voice asking what the fuck is wrong with Prompto. Prompto tries to swallow back more tears, but all it does is make his voice break when he says, "Rover's dead."

The silence makes him feel like his ears are ringing again, but Gladio's hand falls on his shoulder and then slides down his back as Gladio kneels down too. The rest of the MTs must be dead, or there's no way he'd stop and check on Prompto like this.

"Don't you keep the code synched to your phone?" Noct's voice is hesitant, like he's not sure if it's the right thing to say. "Can't you rebuild him?"

"I don't—there's no _supplies_. And I left my tools in—in—" Prompto hides his face behind his hands so they can't see him cry _more_. "And it's not the _same_."

"It's all we can do," Ignis says. He squeezes Prompto's arm briefly and stands up. "Let's see what we can salvage from the explosion, shall we?"

"We can head back to Lestallum," Gladio says. "Or Hammerhead. Wherever you think will have what you need." He pats Prompto's back and moves away too.

Noct tugs Prompto's hands away from his face, giving Prompto his little half-smile. "We're here for you."

Prompto manages a nod and they stand up together. Noct gives Prompto's fingers a squeeze before he lets go, but Prompto has to take a few deep breaths before he can bear to look down again.

They don't find all of Rover, but Prompto didn't think they would. Most of the little pieces are lost in the grass and dirt, and the bigger pieces are scorched almost beyond recognition. Worst is the motherboard, half-melted and _useless_ , but Noct is right. Prompto has the code saved (with like three backups), and it's the code that made Rover who he was. Not his chassis.

Prompto hops into the back seat of the Regalia when they leave, pulling out what tools he does have as everyone settles in around him. Gladio slides over to the middle of the bench and looks down at Prompto, unusually quiet and pensive. Prompto ignores him and starts sorting the pieces they found into piles, from 'probably salvageable' to 'completely useless.'

"Anything I can do to help?" Gladio asks quietly.

 _That_ makes Prompto look up. Gladio isn't exactly good with technology, and he seems more than happy to keep it that way. Usually when Prompto starts messing around with the robots he pulls out a book or his phone and Prompto has to ramble about what he's doing to somebody else. Or to the robots if nobody else is around. He must be _really_ worried about Prompto.

"Help me clean them?" Prompto fishes a towel out of his bag and hands it and one of the biggest pieces over. Gladio grimaces, but he spreads the towel out over his legs without saying anything.

By the time they get to Hammerhead they've managed to clean everything, and Prompto leaps out of the car as soon as they stop. He runs into the store with only a short wave for Cindy, and everyone follows him in. Not that anyone but Ignis is any _help_.

"We can stay in the caravan until you're done," Ignis says as they poke through the crowded shelves. "Takka's food is good, and if we need more money we can go on a few hunts."

"I can do it on the road if you need to." Prompto fiddles with his bracelet and stares sightlessly at a can of Ebony. "As long as Noct doesn't drive."

"I'd rather not risk anything unexpected getting into Rover's insides." Ignis smiles. "You were rather alarmed when Fred grew a flower on me."

Prompto remembers the little green bud and winces. Okay, maybe it _is_ best if they stay here. Still, they have to get Noct to Altissia, don't they? He doesn't want to hold up the trip with this. It wouldn't be fair.

"There can't be a wedding if the groom isn't there," Noct says. Sometimes it's like he can read Prompto's mind. "And after what Rover did I think he deserves to be there."

Prompto rubs at his eyes before he can start crying again. He has the _best_ friends.

He changes his mind a few hours later when Gladio pulls Prompto away from his work.

“You need to eat,” Gladio grumbles in response to Prompto’s protests. “You can’t fix Rover if you die of starvation.”

“I’m not gonna _starve_ ,” Prompto mutters, glaring at the ground. “Rover won’t take a month.”

Gladio snorts, but he doesn’t let go of Prompto’s arm. The only reason Prompto doesn’t shake him off is that he knows Gladio would chase after him and _carry_ him back to the diner if he ran off. He’s _seen_ him do it to Noct.

Ignis and Noct are waiting for them at the counter, and they both smile when Gladio shoves him onto a stool. Prompto makes a face at them all—he _needs_ to get more work done—but when Gladio looms behind him he knows there’s no escape.

“You’re all the _worst_ ,” Prompto whines, leaning dramatically across the counter. “Rover needs me.”

“You won’t get anything done if you’re too hungry to focus.” Ignis reaches over and pat’s Prompto’s knee consolingly. “Just humor us for a meal and we’ll let you get back to work.”

Prompto groans, but when Takka drops a plate full of food his stomach rumbles. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry, but once he starts picking at his food he doesn’t stop until he’s done. There isn’t much conversation during the meal, and nobody stops him from running off the moment he puts the last bite into his mouth.

They _do_ drag him away again several hours later though. Well, Noct does anyway. He pokes Prompto until he puts his tools down, and then he pulls Prompto over to the beds. Prompto’s mind is hazy enough that he doesn’t quite realize what’s happening until he’s curled up with Noct. He blinks sleepily at the thin blanket.

“Um, Noct?”

“Go to _sleep_ , Prom.” Noct huffs and tightens his grip on Prompto’s waist.

“But why am I in your bed?” Prompto asks, baffled. The bunks in the RVs aren’t exactly spacey.

“Because I said so. _Sleep_.”

Prompto sighs and obligingly closes his eyes. He _is_ tired. A few hours can’t hurt.

 

The rest of the week passes similarly, with the guys seeming to take turns dragging Prompto away for meals and sleep. He doesn’t get a bed to himself the entire time, but he doesn’t mind it as much as he’d have expected to. It’s _nice_ having someone’s arms wrapped around him. It feels _safe_. Prompto isn’t sure he wants to go back to sleeping by himself again, though he’s sure he’ll miss privacy eventually.

Not that there’s any chance that this arrangement will be permanent. The guys are just worried about him because of Rover; once the new chassis is complete everything will go back to normal. He’s _sure_ of it.

He has mixed feelings as he puts the finishing touches on Rover 2.0. The new chassis is a bit bigger and painted a much more muted blue than the original one’s scarlet, and his _two_ pincer arms are now able to electrocute an enemy that’s harassing Prompto. When he turns Rover 2.0 on, his eyes light up green and he boops cheerfully.

“Hey, buddy,” Rover 2.0 says, his eyes blinking off and on in greeting.

Prompto sniffles quietly. “Hey,” he says. “Let’s see how you’re doing, huh?”

Rover 2.0 is _perfect_. Prompto wipes tears away as the robot drops Prompto’s tool into his hand, and he’s so distracted with trying not to sob that he doesn’t notice Noct come barreling over to the caravan. He _does_ notice when Noct almost knocks him over with an enthusiastic hug, though.

“Rover’s done,” Prompto says. “Rover, come say hi to Noct.”

Rover 2.0 flies over and hovers in front of Noct’s face. “Hey, buddy.”

“Yeah, I think he’s missing something.” Noct grins into Prompto’s confused face and holds up a little bag of googly eyes. “Want to help me glue these on this time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Either version of Rover is a mix of this [kickass bot](http://www.hartfordbusiness.com/storyimage/HB/20120319/PRINTEDITION/303199992/AR/0/AR-303199992.jpg&MaxW=400&MaxH=400) and this [goofy-looking](http://www.andymartin.info/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/robot02.jpg) one. Just in different colors. And you get to imagine any combination of them you want! :D As long as you remember to cover him in googly eyes. Noct would be sad if you forgot.


End file.
